


Your Name On My Wrist

by totalizzyness



Series: Soul-Mates [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Mutant, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 10:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totalizzyness/pseuds/totalizzyness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azazel didn’t understand how Erik could call it a “Hollywood perpetuated waste of time” when he had a name printed clearly on the inside of his wrist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Name On My Wrist

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short prelude to the main fic I'll be writing for this Universe. I just wanted to set up the Azazel/Janos relationship before the next installment.

Janos wasn’t sure what to make of his new employer; Ms Frost was just as cold as her name suggested but she was fair, and never made him feel like he was six inches tall. He knew he was lucky to get a job in America that wasn’t bussing tables or collecting trash, and being a personal assistant at Shaw Enterprises was definitely a position he could work his way up from. For now, his job paid the bills and being emerged in such a hectic environment made him pick up English quicker than any adult learning course.

He didn’t particularly mind the endless monotony of typing up documents, issuing memos and chasing up paperwork. Ms Frost liked to keep a pretty clear schedule in case Shaw found some hoops he wanted her to jump through. Instead, her department had to pick up the slack, and it was Janos’ job to make sure they kept on top of it.

The main downside of his job was he had little free time. It wasn’t that he had any friends to socialise with, but the time to make friends would have been nice. He’d never meet his soul-mate if he was working all the time; the name on his wrist, written in long, scratchy letters was starting to itch.

 --

Azazel wandered back into the office. his eyes mindlessly watching the ceiling as he meandered between desks to his station. He flopped down in his chair, oblivious to the suspicious look his superior was giving him. He eyed the ceiling for a while longer before sighing wistfully and returning to the real world. He woke up his computer and logged on, still oblivious to the look he was receiving. He startled when his boss cleared his throat, turning to face him.

“Yes?”

“What happened?”

It was Azazel’s turn to direct the suspicious look on his boss. “What are you talking about?”

“You leave here with your pissy attitude when I tell you we’ve got a new council contract, and come back an hour later practically shitting rainbows.”

“Maybe I had time to cool down.”

“I don’t think so. The only person who hates council contracts more than me is you-”

“Because you dump most of the work on me!”

“Because I don’t want to do it. So, my point still stands, what happened?”

Azazel rolled his eyes, opening the file he’d been working on. “Erik, look-”

“Oh God, you met someone, didn’t you.”

“No.”

“Half an hour for lunch and you-”

“I haven’t met someone… not yet.”

Erik sighed, shuffling a mess of papers into a neat stack. “See something pretty, then?”

“Emma has a new assistant.”

“Of course. Is this one a male model too?”

Azazel smirked. “Better.”

“Ugh. I don’t want to know about it. Get those contracts drafted by four, and if I hear one more word about your tingly wrist I’m only going to accept council projects for the rest of the year.”

“I’ll just quit.”

Erik shook his head, pushing himself to his feet. “No you won’t.” He grabbed his stack of papers and marched through to the meeting room. Azazel sighed, tapping his fingers on the desk.

“No, I won’t.”

Azazel knew he’d never leave Shaw Enterprises; it was the only reason he was still in America. The pay wasn’t great, but it wasn’t like he needed a lot of money, plus he enjoyed the work most of the time, and he got on with his boss. He was sure he was the only person in the building to get on with Erik Lehnsherr; most people found him too intimidating and his sense of humour too dark. Azazel had been the first person beneath Erik to stand up to him, it had earned him his boss’ respect and an odd semblance of friendship. They worked perfectly together and shared a lot of the same views and ideals. Except on the subject of soul-mates.

Azazel would admit he had the tendancy to over-romanticise the idea of soul-mates, but he thought Erik’s view of it being an irritating inconvenience was harsh. He didn’t understand how Erik could call it a “Hollywood perpetuated waste of time” when he had a name printed clearly on the inside of his wrist. Azazel had never seen Erik’s name, it wasn’t something the unbonded flaunted around, but he definitely had one. Everyone had a name, and Erik wore his wrist-band-watch to protect the identity of his mate, just like everybody else.

Azazel looked down at his left wrist, unclasping the leather band that hid his name underneath. His mate’s name was printed clearly across his veins in neat, large letters. He’d read all the articles on graphology to see what kind of person his mate was; when Erik had found him he immediately blocked all websites to do with soul-mates on their network. Azazel sighed, rubbing his wrist with his thumb. No one agreed on what it meant when the skin itched or tingled; some said it itched more the closer one got to finding their mate; some said it itched when one’s mate was thinking of them. Erik said it itched because the skin was trapped under a wrist-band and needed to breathe (ever the pragmatist).

“Azazel!”

Azazel’s head snapped up; Erik was poking his head through the doorway, scowling at him. He pointed at his wrist, waiting for Azazel to slip his band back on before nodding and retreating back into the room.

Azazel huffed petulantly, getting back to work. Finding Janos would have to wait.

\--

Janos swore his brain was slowly melting and seeping out of his ears as he re-inputted nine-digit numbers into a spreadsheet. He’d been at it for over an hour and his eyes were stinging, the letters and figures no longer resembling an alphabet he was familiar with; but he pushed on through, another ten minutes until he could go on his lunch break. He just hoped Ms Frost didn’t find something for him to do, making him postpone his break. He tensed when the office door behind him opened, Emma’s heels clacking on the tiled floor as she stalked over to him. A file was dropped onto his desk.

“Take this to 19, tell Lehnsherr to fill in his own paperwork. He should be in the main conference room. Oh, and tell Drakov to stop being Erik’s bitch.”

Janos nodded, holding his breath. “Then I go on lunch?”

”...Sure.”

Ms Frost marched back to her office; Janos grabbed the paperwork and hurried to the elevator. He flipped open the file, looking over what the paperwork was. His stomach lurched when he noticed the handwriting, recognising the spiky lettering. He flipped through to find a signature, almost dropping the file when he saw “Azazel” practically carved into the paper. The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open and Janos nearly broke into a run, navigating his way through the office space to the conference room. He forgot to knock, pushing the doors open; everyone in the room stopped what they were doing. Five men stood around the table, hunched over some blueprints, one of which had a particularly stern glare.

Janos’ breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew one of these men was his soul-mate.

Azazel could feel his throat go dry, the most recent object of his affections stood in the doorway, clutching paperwork and… panting? He glanced at Erik, catching his attention and nodded at the man. Erik rolled his eyes, shaking his head. Azazel opened his mouth, silently explaining he’d appeared to have lost his voice. Erik huffed, fixing the man with his sharpest scowl.

“Can I help you? Or are you just here to interrupt?!”

Azazel wanted to scold Erik for his harshness but was distracted by the man nervously clearing his throat.

“Who… who is Azazel?”

Azazel’s stomach flipped; he stepped around the table, trying to remember English. “I am.”

The man’s eyes raked over his body as he took a step closer, tossing the file onto the table. He was sure he could feel his wrist burning, not sure if it actually was or if it was wishful thinking. He blinked and suddenly the space between them was gone; the room was deathly silent, the only thing he could hear was his own shallow breathing and his blood rushing in his ears. The tension between him and the man was electric, his hair standing on end as they stared into each other’s eyes.

The man suddenly groaned, fisting Azazel’s jacket and crushed their lips together, slinging his other arm around his neck, pulling him closer. Azazel moaned into his mouth, his arms snaking around his waist, his nerves thrumming with static. His mouth opened at the first flick of the man’s tongue, eager to taste him, to take everything he offered.

Erik stood gaping at the two men in front of him, shocked at the sheer level of unprofessionalism. He knew Azazel wanted to get his leg over the PA, but had expected him to be able to keep it in his pants in the office. He finally managed to find his voice. “What the Hell is going on?!”

They pulled apart at the sound of Erik’s voice, but didn’t register anyone else in the room. Janos practically tore off his brown leather wrist-band, baring his wrist for Azazel to see. Azazel gently touched his thumb to his name, holding out his own wrist for Janos to unclasp his band.

“My Janos.”

Janos smiled, tracing his fingers down Azazel’s cheek, curling them around the back of his neck, resting their foreheads together, his thumb rubbing over his pulse.

“Seriously! Azazel!”

Azazel ignored his boss in favour of pulling Janos even closer, ducking his head to capture his mate’s lips with his own. Janos smiled into the kiss, twisting his fingers in Azazel’s hair.

Erik huffed, already annoyed by his friend’s newfound happiness. He flounced round the table, grabbing Azazel’s shoulder and pulled the couple apart. “Azazel!”

Azazel just smiled goofily at his boss, his arm squeezing Janos’ middle. “I’m going on my lunch break, Erik. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

“Erik?” Janos asked. Erik nodded; Janos pointed at the paperwork. “Ms Frost says you are to do your own paperwork.”

Azazel laughed, pressing a kiss to Janos’ temple before leading them out of the conference room. Erik pinched his nose, breathing out slowly lest he stab someone.

“Fine. Everyone back in half an hour.”


End file.
